I have no one else to talk to so I’d rather spill what’s in my mind here.

I’m writing this to let me feel that someone’s listening. To fool myself that someone is eager to know my case. Even though there’s no response, I’m taking my chances for someone to hear my helpless voice.

Because I feel locked up. No one’s trying to help and it’s been years of struggle. Much have I said that my chains are unbound but no. I say that I am free but no. I don’t know if it’s only me. Exposing myself in plain sight is not my thing but I guess I have no choice. I already went through this point of no return.

I try to be happy. Everyone tells me that. Move on. Yeah, but it’s never that easy for me. Judge me. Tell me I’m weak, a coward, a douche or a fucking asshole, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been through that. I’m expert in making a whole total shit out of myself. These chains seem to grip much tighter around my neck.

It’s asphyxiating. You have nowhere to go. You have no one to talk to. Some friends are busy. Some don’t understand and will just leave you to rot. Help screams from within and this is an echo. A cry that’s ricocheting around these four walls I’m into. Words that have been plaguing my mind for almost a lifetime.

That is if I still wake up tomorrow. Sometimes I wish I shouldn’t have. Death has been standing by my side for a long time now. He whispers things in my ear. Words that few would talk about. Words others fear to talk about. Words that can lead me to his place. I always try to ignore him. His voice just booms whenever I’m alone but I’m used to it. The only thing I hate is that it’s an eternal struggle for me to stand back up. I’m always caught in the middle of the process of rebuilding myself when I’ll just break down. And you don’t know how it feels. How every inch of sweat you poured into that confidence. That smile I’ve always wanted to show to everybody. To show that I can, too, such as themselves, to be positive. To show them all that I can do it by myself. But before I even place my feet on the ground, before I could stand tall and proud, the pressure builds up and pushes me back down. Countless of times, have I fell on my hands and knees. I’m searching for valid reasons but they seem to evade me.

I can’t open the door. The windows are too little. The light I see is only coming from the extreme darkness this room is projecting. It’s too dark. I’m not sure if day even exists out there.

Is the sun still shining bright?

Can I still wave and greet the moon: Hi?

Do the seas still crash its waves to the rocks?

Will the sky be peaceful once rain stopped to fall?

Can I still recognize the face who will look at me in the mirror?

Will I still remember the faces who stood by my side?

Can I still feel how it’s like to feel?

Do they still help people behind these doors?

Will the light shine my face bright as I inhale the calming breeze of your breath?